𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰.

it only makes sense to repeat himself ,  words already dangling off the tip of his tongue   ─   but his breath’s caught in his throat ,  makes it impossible to let the syllables fall.  had he lacked sense, he would have thought his heart had also stopped beating.   ‘ forget it, ’   falls in sync with a shake of his head,  corners of his mouth softening to blur any displeasure that may have been mistaken.    ‘ we’re a lost cause anyway. ’

“ have you eaten already? ”   comes out instead of the where have you been that tries slipping past his tongue. remy has to wonder if there will ever be a day where he’ll come right out   &   say it, if he’ll ever garner the resilience to ignore the fear of the answer that’ll be tossed his way.   “ because there’s leftovers in the fridge if you haven’t. or i could order something for you, if you’re not feeling that. ”   it lacks the desperation that pools in his belly, thank god, and the right end of his mouth even pulls up into a small smile. it isn’t ideal, but it’s enough and that’s a mantra that remy holds onto with all his might.

“ i .. ”  he had begun to argue, but the tip of his tongue ran along the back of the top teeth as a makeshift barricade ;   snuffing out the rebuttal before there’s a chance for the conversation to spiral into something he’d never be able to grapple onto again. resignation perches itself atop his shoulders, weighing them down into reluctant slopes. this isn’t what he wants and the voice in the back of his head has to continuously remind quinton it isn’t about him this time.   “ so this is just it then ?  we just .. have to take this as what it is ? ”

the  settled  pattern  of  his  heartbeat’s  accelerated  beyond  worry  now ,   thudding  in  his  chest  rapid  enough  to  thrum  through  his  sternum  and  place  a  pocket  of  air  at  the  base  of  his  throat  that  feels  a  lot  more  like  a  boulder .   his  right  hand  bends  at  the  wrist ,   a  halfhearted  notion  to  swish  away  some  of  the  tension  that’s  clouded  the  bedroom .   too  often  quinton’s  found  himself  on  his  knees ,   imploring  for  an  emotion  he’s  yet  to  be  given .   and  maybe  he  never  will  be ,   but  an  ignorance  masked  as  softness  forces  him  to  keep  trying  even  as  he  stands  before  them ,   decaying  beneath  actions  and  emotions  not  of  his  normal  character .   brown  eyes  flicker  across  facial  features ,   as  if  searching  for  an  answer  he  knows  he  won’t  receive .  “ i did everything for you , ”   splits  through  lips  like  dynamite .   nothing  more  than  a  straggling  desperation  he  refuses  to  paint  across  his  features ;   the  crack  of  his  tone  betrays  him ,   as  it  frequently  does . 

*  base.                any  other  human  would  think  him  PATHETIC .  and  quinton  wouldn’t  fight  the  notion  ** ;  ** the  center  of  his  palms  itch  like  they  did  that  first  night ,   heart  so  heavy  in  his  chest  that  he’s  got  to  take  a  second  to  thank  god  for  the  placement  of  lungs  to  keep  it  from  plummeting  straight  out  his  abdomen .  the  next  breath  he  takes  is  staggering  though ,   and  the  smile  on  his  face  has  a hue  of  remorse .   he  wonders  if  it’s  something  more  mundane  than  his  head’s  letting  him  think ,   if  there’s  a  whole  string  of  people  who  just  need  the  company  of  another  body  rather  than  the  sex  that  clings  to  their  occupational  label .   (  probably  not .   but  he  can  hope.  )    quinton  shifts  where  he’s  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  hotel  bed ,   hands  folding  over  his  lap  and  fingers  twisting  together  to  keep  themselves  from  fidgeting .    “  so  how  have  you  been ?  ”    he  asks ,   like  he’s  catching  up  with  an  old  friend .   the  sound  of  their  voice  is  a  solace  he’s  been  searching  for  and  q  can’t  quite  round  up  what’s  tumbling  through  his  head  to  make  the  conversation  about  himself .

he  had  to  wonder  if  it  was     him .   if  the  cracks  in  their  relationship  had  no  one  to  blame  but  ren himself ,   like  he’d  taken  a  chisel  and  embedded  its  point  in  the  barely - there  cracks  between  the  wariness  in  their  tone  and  the  offhanded  comments  that  could  have  gone  over  his  head  if  he’d  just  given  them  the     chance .    the  softest    “ this  isn’t  going  to  work  out ,  is  it ?  ”    falls  from  his  lips   ;      lacks  the  self - awareness  to  be  certain  if  it  was  perceived  rhetorical  ,   if  it  was  only  going  to  further  press  the  dagger  into  remnants  of  them  like  the  heel  of  a  deity’s  hand .   but  his  head’s  lolling  to  the  side  to  get  a  better  look  at  them  in  the  meantime .     (  this  is  probably  ren’s  favorite  moment ,   when  hair’s  rumpled  from  a  thursday  night’s  sleep  and  the  contours  of  their  body  keep  soft ,   illuminated  by  the  sunlight  that  barely  seeps  through  the  blinds  on  their  window .   he  would  have  them  like  this  all  the  time  if  he  could . )